


Fly Away With Me

by eb18490



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, mentions of panic attack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 19:15:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12514528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eb18490/pseuds/eb18490
Summary: Oneshot:Imagine your otp in a dance theater. Person A used to be a ballet dancer but due to an incident in the past, they can no longer dance. Person A is alone on the stage and out of sadness and painful memories they decide to do one last dance.Person B goes looking for them and finds them dancing a sad and emotional ballet dance. Once person A finishes their dance, person B claps and grabs the attention of person A. Person B goes onto the stage to comfort person A who breaks down crying.Bonus: Person A dances to "A thousand years" cover by The Piano Guys.Tumblr promptDefinitely listen to Fly Away With Me by Tom Walker while reading this.





	Fly Away With Me

**Author's Note:**

> Go check out the song of the same name by Tom Walker. It's so good and he deserves so much more publicity. :)

This was it. Arkadia Theatre.

She hoisted her backpack higher on her shoulders. It was getting old, but there was no way she'd ever give it up. It was one of the only things she had left to remind her of her old life. That and the pair of high point ballet shoes that never left the bag. There was still a tiny spot of blood on the ribbon that wouldn't come off; the remnants of the accident.

Arkadia Theatre was open for the day; any and all visitors were welcome to look around before the site would be demolished tomorrow. They were building apartments in the theatre's place.

As she walked through the front doors she felt a familiar longing. Well, she was going to do what she'd always wanted to do. And she was going to do it well.

The place was like a ghost town, the front desk abandoned for visiting hours.

Tall marble pillars towered above her, creatively supporting the eighteen foot tall ceilings.

She reached her hand out to touch the shining granite floor, so perfectly polished that she could see herself.

The walls were a cream white plaster, etched with spirals and delicate patterns. She'd heard they were repainted every six months.

Lining the walls were photographs of famous dancers, all who'd begun their fame right here, in this very theater.

Her eyes landed on the black and white picture of Indra. Indra was probably the most famous dancer in the modern world. Career started when she was only fourteen, and she quickly made her way up the ranks, eventually ending up as a mentor and talent scout.

~

_ "I liked that." The woman walked up to her, clipboard in her arms. "What's your name?" _

_ "Octavia Blake." She said. _

_ "Octavia. If I like what I see at the performance at Arkadia, you may have a chance as having me as your mentor." _

_ Her stomach felt like it was crammed with butterflies as she tried to hide her excitement. "Thank you so much!" _

_ "I'll be watching." Indra said, walking through the door of the academy. _

~

She fought back tears at the memory. There were no more chances. Indra had found a new girl, a girl named Luna, who was quickly becoming almost as popular as Indra. Luna, the girl who had danced in Octavia's time slot at Arkadia.

She took the carpeted stairs up to the second floor, feeling the red velvet under her shoes.

Pushing one of the many sets of double doors open her eyes collided with the stage, past the many rows of seats.

There were back stairs to the stage, she knew, and she took them, then able to peer out into the rows of seats from the wings of the stage.

She shrugged off her backpack and coat, unlacing her boots and slipping them off. She opened her backpack, slowly taking out the ballet shoes.

First she slid on the elastic knee sleeve, over her leggings, bending her right knee a few times to let it rest in the right place.

Then she started to put on the ballet shoes. After two years they still fit like a glove.

~

_ "Fox, we have to be there for warm ups in half an hour." She told her friend. _

_ "I know. I'm literally driving at the speed limit. I don't need to be pulled over." _

_ Octavia stared at the road ahead. _

_ All of a sudden a deer appeared right in the middle of the road. _

_ "Fox, watch out!" Octavia shrieked, clutching her ballet shoes close to her chest. _

_ Please don't crash-please don't crash- oh God. _

_ Fox turned the wheel with such force Octavia thought it would come off in her hands. _

_ The next thing she remembered was the intense pain, hugging the shoes to her chest and hoping that she'd get out of this alive. _

_ She did, but her world fell apart. _

~

The doctors said she'd never be able to dance again; her right leg was so shattered that it took three surgeries to repair, and it still hurt every single day. They said dancing would only make it worse.

She pushed the long sleeves of her thin shirt up slightly, taking out her phone.

She still had the track. The one she was supposed to dance to that night; the one where Fox would be waiting on the other side of the wings, ready to perform after the applause.

But Fox was dead. Her best friend was dead.

This was for Fox. One last dance.

For everything Octavia had lost that night.

The music began, 'A Thousand Years' covered by The Piano Guys.

She still remembered all the movements as she started, jaw tense in concentration.

The actual performance probably would have felt like this.

At least, it would have, until the pain started.

She tried to push through the rest of the two minutes of the five minute song.

Her entire leg burned, pulsed, a deep pain that was impossible to explain except for that it started from the very inside of her leg and worked its way out in long bursts.

She focused on the movements, trying to remember how to best execute them so she would bend like a willow at a moment's change in note.

Her vision blurred for a second, a tear in the corner of her eye as she jumped; the landing would be a signal to the end of the song.

She landed, perfectly, on her injured leg, as a spasm of pain shot through it, yet she held her pose as the last note of the song rang out.

There was a clapping noise and at first she thought it was her imagination, making up a standing ovation she'd wanted so badly two years ago.

She looked over to the audience, seeing a man, probably a few years older than her nineteen.

Through the dim lighting she could see the expression on his face.

Someone had seen her last dance. She had been so ecompassed in her dancing she hadn't noticed. How much had he seen?

Octavia collapsed on the stage, both in a crippling pain and in pure sadness.

Tears began to stream down her face as she let out a strangled cry. Fox never got to see that dance. That was it. Octavia couldn't ever dance again. Her leg would never be able to hold up.

She heard the man behind her. "What's wrong?" He sounded actually very concerned.

"My last dance." She sobbed, turning around so she was facing the man.

"It's okay." The man saw Octavia cradling her leg. "You're injured. Your last... Oh."

Octavia cried harder. Someone else saying it only made it more real.

"You need to calm down, okay?" The man put his hand on her shoulder.

She tried to take a deep breath to hopefully cease the flood of tears.

In-and-out-in-and-out-it's okay-in-out. Like the therapist told her for her panic attacks.

Eventually she was able to stop crying, her shaking hands the only remnants of the ordeal.

"What's your name?" The man asked her gently.

"Octavia." She wiped the back of her hand over her eyes.

"I'm Lincoln. Do you want to tell me what's wrong?"

Octavia took a deep breath. "I used to dance. Started when I was four. Got my first pair of point shoes when I was twelve. Three years ago they sent a talent scout to watch me. Indra. Her picture's in the lobby. She told me that she liked my dancing, and that if she saw me at the performance at Arkadia, she'd consider taking me on as an apprentice."

"You've performed here?"

She took a deep breath. "It was two years ago. I had spent six months preparing for the performance. That song I danced to was what I was going to use. The dance, too.

I practiced in a closed studio, in my room. I didn't want anyone to see the dance. It was going to be special. The performance was going to be on the anniversary of my mother's death; she died when I was thirteen. She loved watching me dance.

I had it all ready, I wore down four pairs of shoes practicing. My best friend, Fox, she was going to be behind the curtain watching because her dance was right after mine.

My brother was going to get a first row ticket; he'd saved up to see me.

I had to leave early in the morning the day of the performance to warm up and dress, so I left with Fox. She drove me. I didn't have a car.

We were running slightly late, and I told her to go faster. She was pushing 60, a pretty high speed limit. She hated going over 50. Cautious. So I let her stay at the limit.

A deer jumped into the middle of the road and I screamed, and Fox turned the steering wheel so quickly I thought she was going to break her hand.

But she turned it so quickly the car went flying into the concrete barrier, almost head on.

I don't remember much after that. I think I hit my head; there was blood streaming into my eyes. My leg was in so much pain that I passed out and didn't wake up until the paramedics came and shined a flashlight into my eyes.

There was a white sheet over Fox's body. I think I screamed then, because they injected something into my arm and I only woke up when I was in the ICU.

They told me what happened, that they operated on my leg; it was barely save able.

But they were told that I was a dancer, so they tried. At least tried so I could walk again.

I was in the hospital for two months; a punctured lung and serious concussion besides.

I learned that Indra had found a new student; a girl named Luna. She's a few years older than me.

But I wanted to be the one Indra taught. It might be selfish, but I thought I was going somewhere. Ballet is something I love.

When they let me out of the hospital I had a panic attack when they tried to help me into the car.

I had to get two more surgeries on my leg; they did a couple skin grafts and bone reconstructions. I was finally able to walk again eight months ago.

I heard they were demolishing this place, and I wanted to go; to see what it would have been like if the car never had crashed.

I was going to dance my dance on this stage. And I did. For my mother and for Fox. But my leg hurts so much.

This was the last dance I'll ever be able to do. You're the only one who's ever seen it. The only one who will ever have seen it."

Lincoln didn't say anything for a few minutes.

"It was beautiful."

Octavia felt tears gather in her eyes. "Really?"

"Yes. I think Fox would have loved it. Your mother, too."

"Thank you. You're really nice, you know that? Not many people would stop to help someone who was sobbing and having a panic attack all alone on a stage in a soon to be demolished theater."

Lincoln shrugged. "Just doing what anyone else would do. Do you need help getting home?"

"I think so." Octavia said, while Lincoln helped her to take off the ballet shoes. She put her boots back on, and put her phone and shoes in her backpack.

"Do you take the bus?" Lincoln asked.

"Yeah." Octavia put her coat on, Lincoln helping her to stand. "Ow. I haven't been able to be in a car for more than three seconds after..."

"It's okay. I understand." Lincoln said.

"I don't know if I'm going to be able to get down these stairs." Octavia said, limping a few steps.

"Here." Lincoln picked her up in his arms, holding her like she weighed nothing at all.

"Thank you."


End file.
